I’ve made you my refuge and hope
who’s made me rich and then poor
your oneness I sought at the door to the poem,
so grace your servant, my Lord,
with the good that you’ve long laid in store.
Extend your mercy across me
and my way with these words will be sure.
How could my failings distract you so
who fashioned the world in a void
that the daughters of song
should be humbled and stilled.
See now my dread, my Lord,
I stand here before you exposed